


And We Looked Skyward

by LordessMeep



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Asahi needs protection, Character Study, I Tried, I did it because Rachel, Introspection, It's okay Nishinoya's on it, M/M, Probably the only time I'll ever write AsaNoya, Relationship Study, That's my excuse and I'll stick to it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 10:25:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11273568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordessMeep/pseuds/LordessMeep
Summary: Torono doesn’t really have much, Asahi thinks as he watches the rolling fields, feels the gentle breeze, still too nippy for early March. He’s bundled up, thank god, and he’s still warm from the piping hot nikuman they’d all shared – Suga, Daichi, Kiyoko and he, one of the last before they all graduated and went their separate ways.(or, Asahi ruminates about the present, the future and everything in between)





	And We Looked Skyward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arturo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arturo/gifts).



> For Rachel, who's AsaNoya fangirlism gives me life. Happy birthday, you beautiful soul. Here you have it, an AsaNoya fic just for you, complete with my mangled attempt to write them. (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ
> 
> Again, the interpretations of these characters are mine alone and I'm still incredibly unsure of how it's turned out. Songs that served as background noise when writing this are as follows:
> 
> \- [The Sealed Temple](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M7supjjZZJA)
> 
> \- [Zelda's Lullaby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cAVn71rNImI)
> 
> \- [Fi's Gratitude](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QEbFLSfHqQ8)
> 
> \- The Goddess Harp (couldn't find this on YouTube, unfortunately... and it's a very lovely piece too)
> 
> All are from The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword's OST and I highly recommend you give them a listen while you read... but no pressure, of course. :D

*

There is a hill next to the one Karasuno is on, one that isn’t boarded up and the edge isn’t surrounded by barbed wires, probably because the slope is too gentle, and it’s downright _impossible_ to fall off the edge and cause much harm to one’s person, unless they’re being particularly stupid. It doesn’t stop Asahi from being apprehensive and hyperventilating for about five minutes before carefully sitting down on the grass and settling in.

Torono doesn’t really have much, Asahi thinks as he watches the rolling fields, feels the gentle breeze, still too nippy for early March. He’s bundled up, thank god, and he’s still warm from the piping hot nikuman they’d all shared – Suga, Daichi, Kiyoko and he, one of the last before they all graduated and went their separate ways.

The future. It’s a scary word and Asahi is well-versed in the ways of it - some people thrive in unpredictability, but he doesn’t, not unless it’s in the midst of a game, and there’s really no point in thinking of the worst then, no room for it at all. He wants to say that he’s here to calm and center himself as he watches the fields – stretching out over the horizon, lit up in shades of pink and orange in the setting sun; a fine layer of mist starting to hang over everything – but, truthfully, Asahi is never truly _calm_ , so there.

Still, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy basking in the Torono twilight, sitting about without a care as he rests one arm on his bag. He has a stray thought about how cool he’d look like this, perhaps dark and brooding and not like a _scary as hell goatee dude who probably is in a biker ga-_

“There you are!”

To say that he’s shocked out of his skin would be a bit of an understatement. Nishinoya laughs joyfully – because of course he does; subtle is not the way of Nishinoya – and Asahi doesn’t even have to turn around to know that he probably has his hands crossed in front of him.

“Wow, you really _are_ easy to scare, aren’t you, Asahi-san?” he says, all matter of fact and without even a trace of mocking. In some ways, Asahi thinks that he’s probably worse than Daichi, in that he never even realizes that he’s shattering any veneer of confidence Asahi may or may not have built up over the past year.

“Nishinoya-” he starts, but, Nishinoya puts a stop to that by ambling up to him and flopping down beside him, bag and all.

“Here,” he says before Asahi can say much else, and that’s when he notices a popsicle thrust in his face.

“…it’s almost four degrees out, Nishinoya.” he informs him.

“Gari Gari-kun is best had in the cold,” Nishinoya replies immediately, taking a big bite out of his stick. Asahi can feel his brain freeze just from watching him, “Ryuu says that eating ice creams in winter stops you from catching a cold. You know, since cold and cold cancel each other out,”

Asahi stares at his profile for a couple of seconds. “I don’t think that’s exactly right.”

“Well,” Nishinoya shrugs, “Saeko nee-san told him. She’s always right about this sort of stuff.”

 _Or_ , _she could be pulling his leg_ , Asahi thinks but doesn’t say. At least, he _hopes_ this is the case.

“Well, more for me,” Nishinoya shrugs, surprising him by not pushing any more.

“You’ll catch a cold, Nishinoya,” Asahi says anyway and Nishinoya simply makes an indignant sound.

They sit in silence for a while. Silence and Nishinoya don’t go well – Nishinoya is someone who has the perpetual need to run, who’s often fidgety and taps his feet when the Coach went over strategies at the end of practice, who never sits still. Sure enough, it takes him all of two seconds to start rocking back and forth in place, though he doesn’t say anything.

Asahi doesn’t interrupt either; he likes the calm, likes the solid presence beside him. Nishinoya’s presence is always too large to ignore, even when he’s silent like this – all crossed legs and hunched shoulders, and balancing one devoured popsicle’s stick between his nose and upper lip. He doesn’t even make the usual spectacle of winning and losing this time – though, out of the corner of his eye, Asahi can see that both the sticks are losing ones.

He turns back to the sight before him, the open fields, the mist owing everything an almost magical, ethereal quality; the dwindling light refracting against it and, if he looks carefully, he could probably see a small spectrum of a rainbow somewhere there.

“Saw Daichi-san and Suga-san leaving earlier,” Nishinoya says finally.

“Hm.”

“You didn’t go home with them?”

Asahi nods. “Just… needed some time.”

There’s a pause before Nishinoya speaks again. “To do what?”

A loaded question if Asahi’s ever heard one. Honestly, he’s not sure himself – he just likes this spot here, likes sitting atop the hill in this not-so-secret spot of his and just soaking up Torono in all its glory.

“To just… be,” he says finally, and he doesn’t expect Nishinoya to understand.

Nishinoya hums in response, but doesn’t comment – again, very unlike him. Nishinoya _always_ has something to say, Asahi knows from experience. He’s always jumping into conversations, letting his opinions be known, loudly but never aggressively. Asahi admires that about him – well, if he’s being completely honest, he admires a _lot_ of things about him, but he’d be digressing – the way that Nishinoya manages to encompass that dichotomy of strongly opinionated, yet open to discussion.  

It occurs to him that something might be wrong, but he doesn’t know how to ask. Good thing he doesn’t have to, for Nishinoya tucks the spent popsicle sticks in a corner pocket of his sports bag and then promptly falls sideways without a warning, his head landing on Asahi’s bicep.

And that’s another thing that’s new – Nishinoya being affectionate in strangely subtle ways. Asahi hadn’t expected that if he’s being honest. He was prepared for loud, overblown declarations, very akin to the things he’d seen him do over Kiyoko, but Nishinoya isn’t like that with him. There’s a part of him that’s insecure – a very small part of him, for most of him is relieved – but Asahi doesn’t give that thought much room to breed. He knows how insecurities work all too well and he’s trying to grow past them.

He purses his lips for a brief moment, turning his head to regard Nishinoya, and then, carefully, he unfurls his arm, adjusting it so that Nishinoya’s curled under it. Almost immediately, Nishinoya tucks himself in closer and, just like that, Asahi feels his doubts fade away, grow just a bit more colorless.

(But never go away completely because, well, they never leave. They only sit back, poised and ready to dig their claws in again, ready to pull him under.)

He’s small, Asahi thinks, diminutive and there’s an almost fragile quality to him when he’s like this – quiet and docile. He almost snorts then, because fragile is not something anyone would associate with Nishinoya – the way he goes through life with that unbridled enthusiasm, Asahi feels like he’s unbreakable, unbeatable; even though he logically recognizes that no one is _really_ like that.

“Graduation,” Nishinoya murmurs, shattering the silence with a word. Asahi looks away, blinking at slowly darkening sky. Nishinoya continues, “What are you doing after that?”

Asahi doesn’t know why he’s asking, because everyone knows he’s eschewing higher education in favour of taking on a job to pay the bills. It’s a foregone decision – because he has decent grades, but there’s nothing he’s seriously passionate about that he’s willing to go for. Volleyball, sure, but he’s seen the kind of passion that Hinata and Kageyama have for the sport; the kind that burns so bright, it’s almost blinding. He’s seen the kind of passion that Nishinoya has for it too, but he thinks it’s a misnomer, for Nishinoya approaches most things with that same measure of passion; always, _always_ giving over too much of himself.

“You know what I’m doing,” he says anyway. He pauses, swallowing, weighing his options for a scant moment before asking. “Nishinoya, is something wrong?”

There’s a shrug, Nishinoya turning his face so that it’s buried in Asahi’s side.

“It’s nothing.” He replies and it’s such an obvious lie, Asahi almost laughs.

“You can tell me, you know.” He says, carding his fingers through Nishinoya’s hair, once and quick. There’s something surprisingly heartening about how soft it is, even that one patch in the front that is bleached blond – he takes care of the dye job, that’s for sure.

There’s silence. It’s strange but Asahi allows it for a brief moment, choosing to bask in the cool breeze again, choosing to watch the play of lights change the ambience to something softer, calmer. He inhales, eyeing the fields below again, watching the thick reed grass sway in the wind.

“Shimada-san’s been having trouble keeping staff,” he admits, “He heard from Suga that I wasn’t going to college, so he asked if I wanted to work for him for a while. I mean, it’s still _unofficial_ … he could find someone better-”

“He asked you for a reason, didn’t he?” Nishinoya interrupts and Asahi falls silent. He can’t deny it, he’d asked Shimada-san the same thing when he’d been hired on spot, without seeing his resume even, but the man had simply punched his side lightly in response.

 _I’d rather have someone I know, more so if it’s a kouhai of mine_ was what he’d said and Asahi suspects that someone like Ukai or Takeda must’ve put in a good word for him. Why, he doesn’t know, but he’s grateful and just a little bit embarrassed all the same.

“Are you going to come in for practices?” Nishinoya asks, something probing and the faintest of hopefulness in there.

“If I have time, sure.” He smiles, ruffling Nishinoya’s hair again. Nishinoya makes a small, satisfied sound, relaxing further. A beat later, Asahi continues, “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

Nishinoya’s exhale is a stream of white, a fog that dissipates almost immediately.

“Another year sounds nice.” He says, almost cryptic, except Asahi agrees with him.

There’s a part of him that surges up suddenly, a reminder that while Asahi was content with laying low and just being, Nishinoya wasn’t.

It’s almost poetic, he thinks – the fact that they’re almost perfectly diametrically opposite in every way. _Morning sun_ and _Evening_ , _East peak_ and _West valley_ [1]. Where Asahi is meek and unassuming, Nishinoya is anything but. They _fit_ , that's what Daichi had said at New Year’s and it’d been down to Asahi to break the news on his fellow third years’ heads. They fit and Asahi can’t even deny it, because something about Nishinoya keeps him grounded, keeps him solid when he’d be languishing, succumbing to his own demons.

That’s the thing – Nishinoya doesn’t validate him because he thinks it’s what Asahi needs. He does it because he _believes_ it; that Asahi is worth something, even when he himself fails to believe it.

In a rare show of affection, Asahi turns his head to bury his face in Nishinoya’s hair, inhaling that woodsy, warm scent, and letting it settle him. Nishinoya exhales in surprise, but he allows it, moving in closer.

The next year… it’s a big one for Karasuno. Ennoshita as captain, Tanaka as his reliable vice-captain, and their reputation may just invite students from esteemed middle schools. Nishinoya had been noticed at the Nationals, things like _genius_ and _potential_ were being tossed around to no one’s surprise. He’s good, _really_ good – they’ve all known this for years – and Takeda had murmured something about a scholarship.

It’s inevitable of course, but Asahi can’t help but wonder what it means for them. The National team, Japan’s boys in black and red – Asahi knows that NIshinoya has a goal in mind, even if he never verbalizes it the way Kageyama and Hinata often do. And he’ll make it too, there’s no question about it; he’ll go on to play with the giants. It’s where he belongs, Asahi thinks, he can live and _breathe_ the one thing he truly excels in.

Torono is too small to hold the weight of his too big ambitions.

That little, insecure part of him wonders, if it’s in any way fair for Asahi to tie him down, if Nishinoya spreading his wings and flying away would mean that they would cease to exist. He almost wants to ask too, but he already knows the answer, can almost hear the vehemence with which Nishinoya would assure him otherwise.

Nishinoya’s hand sneaks over to hold his, smaller fingers tangling with his own larger, broader ones.

“Another year makes me happy.” He says, almost like Asahi has been projecting the quagmire that is his mind, “Very happy.”

 _Will I be enough_ , he almost blurts, even though his futile thoughts will be rebuffed. Instead, he takes another deep breath, then straightens, turning to face the Torono twilight as it fades to early evening – the sky now painted with more azure than coral.

“So… thank you.” Nishinoya completes, voice earnest and deeply real.

Asahi blinks in surprise, turning his gaze to glance at Nishinoya’s face – the small, content smile, the way he looks almost relaxed – and he doesn’t know what he did to achieve that.

“What for?” he asks and is met with a small huff of amusement.

“For just being,” he answers and Asahi might accuse him of being cheeky, but he lets it go with a chuckle.

Something about Nishinoya made him want to try, even though the future was undefined and stretched forward without a hint of what’s to come, even though Asahi was always scared of things on many levels. Nishinoya made him want to try and be something more than he was – Suga, Daichi and the rest did too, but no one made him want to _be_ more; those peat brown eyes staring at him, unblinking, silently telling him that every excuse he ever made for failure was exactly that – an excuse.

Asahi looks upward, closing his eyes against the cool northern winds, banishing his thoughts – or at least trying to. Nishinoya squeezes his fingers lightly and he squeezes back, grounded and feeling himself settle again.

They sit there for a bit longer, and anywhere between a minute and an hour pass before Nishinoya pipes up.

“It’s late,” he says unexpectedly and Asahi’s breath catches on a laugh, “We should get going.”

They should – the hills are difficult to navigate in the dark – but Asahi feels his lips curve up the slightest bit.

Opening his eyes, he’s greeted with the first stars. It’s an impossibility to see the stars in Tokyo, Daichi and he had discovered. _Too much light pollution_ , Yaku had offhandedly remarked back when they were at the training camp, and Asahi could attest to that first-hand now. There’s nothing like this in Tokyo or any metropolis, he thinks, devoid of the simplest luxury.

“Five more minutes,” he replies, “I want to see the stars.”

Nishinoya’s laughter is spontaneous and short, dissolving into quieter chuckles soon enough.

“Okay.” He says and Asahi glances to see him looking upward too, eyes big and wide, and mouth slightly open – just enough that he’s not gaping. Asahi watches him for a bit, tucks away the moment in the back of his head, and he, too, looks skyward – upward and ahead.

*

**Author's Note:**

> [1] - This is a reference to Asahi and Nishinoya's names having the exact opposite meanings. Asahi's name 東峰 旭 stands for "East Peak" + "Morning Sun" and Nishinoya's 西谷 夕 is "West Valley" + "Evening". Even their birthdays are opposites of the other 01/01 and 10/10.
> 
> [2] - References for the hills are taken from [pictures](https://static.panoramio.com.storage.googleapis.com/photos/large/98712311.jpg) of [Karumai](https://static.panoramio.com.storage.googleapis.com/photos/large/85418147.jpg) in Iwate Prefecture, the town on which Haikyuu's Torono, Miyagi is based.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! (￣▽￣)/


End file.
